


Ugly Boys

by ChopLogic



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies), Mad Max: Fury Road
Genre: Drug Use, F/F, F/M, Sexual Content, frottage/grinding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2015-05-29
Packaged: 2018-04-01 13:33:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4021744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChopLogic/pseuds/ChopLogic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They say ugly boys had the softest hearts. The wives have tales of boys, the ugliest boys and the softness they showed, and in the dark of the cab as they drive Fury Road, they will tell them.</p>
<p>Skip right to chapter 3 for Nux/Capable, the rest is crackships in crackfics.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. in the quiet, the Dag speaks

The five wives huddled in the back of the cab, the hum of the war rig’s engine reverberating through them. The Fool is driving silently as always and Furiosa disappeared out the cab door for repairs a little while ago. There’s only the whistle of wind and the quiet roar of the engine to break the silence, but it only masks over the quiet like white noise, making it all the more quiet.

Cheedo is first to speak.

“All this quiet is making me nervous, it’s like something could drop out of the sky and kill us all and we’re just waiting for it,”

There was a few nods, some hummed noises of agreement, then silence again. The dark haired girl reached over and tugged on the hem of Capable’s skirt, bringing the redheads attention to the group instead of out the window.

“Capable, you always had good stories, come on tell us one,” Cheedo practically whined, so eager for something to pay attention to he manners left her.

“I don’t have any, they’re all rotty yarns about men and the crap they get in,”

Her voice was harsh and biting, obviously in no mood to spin tales. The Fool shifted in his seat a little, uncomfortable. Cheedo sighed then sat back against Toast. Her eyes flicked from wife to wife, silently asking if any of them had a tale to tell.

"I don't have any," said Splendid.

"Nope," Toast shook her head.

Her eyes rested on the Dag for just a moment, then flitted away. The blonde’s mouth opened, then shut as Cheedo dismissed her with a look. Dag huffed a sigh, and then straightened in her seat. She was good at stories, just sometimes she told them at the wrong times or got the order a little jumbled or forgot little key points or sometimes drifted off in the middle. _Cheedo shouldn't be so quick to judge_ she thought.

“I have a story, a tale about a _boy,_ an _ugly_ boy who's all soft underneath, a tale so loud you’ll forget all this quiet,” esoteric as always, the wives fixed the Dag with a _go on_ sort of look.

“An ugly boy? Don’t tell me this is a yarn about Joe,” Groaned Toast, head thumping back against the wall of the cab.

“No no no, this is a tale about a different boy, he is ugly yes, but not as ugly as Joe,” she paused to make a series of hand gestures, a silent curse for the pale warlord, “he's soft and gentle, oh! And there's an adventure too!” That got the girls attention, Capable dragged her eyes away from the window, Splendid looked up from her swollen bely, Cheedo and Toast shifted around to get a better look at the blonde. Dag paused, wide eyes peering at each woman before flitting up to catch the Fool’s eyes in the cracked rearview.

“Come on then, out with it unless you wanna sit all quiet still,”

The Dag nodded, and then began.

* * *

The Vault was always locked, even when it was open the wives had been instructed to stay beyond the depression in the floor, giving whoever was manning the door enough time to open and close it without one of the shiny women escaping.

The Dag didn’t like the door anyways, too loud and big and clumsy.

She preferred the windows, a cage of glass that stretched from floor to ceiling, like a honeycomb for bees the Miss Giddy sometimes brought her as a treat. She could watch the war parties leave and return, pale boys crawling over the black vehicles like maggots in bad meat. She often wondered if any of them looked up to see her, this untouchable, shiny thing so far out of their reach.

And at night she heard the glass sing.

Raves, that’s the word Joe had mentioned when she had asked. The War Boys ran too hot, their fevers keeping them awake and itching to do something, anything, and so they danced.

She had idly expressed a desire to go dancing, to feel the burning press of bodies all around her, but that idea was snuffed when The Immortan had rounded on her. With hands grasping a little too tightly to her thin arms, the lord of the waste barked at her to never think of such twisted things, to put his propriety in such jeprody was to spit in the living god’s face.

So she abandoned the idea, almost. She slept restlessly, turning and twisting upon her mattress as the glass panes once again started to keen. She wanted to dance, she couldn’t help it. The Dag rose from her bed and walked along the length of the glass wall, head cocked to pick out where the hum grew loudest.

And that’s how she found the lose panel. It wasn’t a piece of glass, but a flat of metal that did not bolt properly in place, causing it to clank ever so quietly against the frame. He heart leapt; if she could pry this plate off she could hear the music better.

She spent the rest of the night trying to jimmy the piece away, her sisters woke to find her curled up and sleeping beside the window, a single bolt in her hands.

She continued this process; in the dead of night she worked, delicate fingers turning rough as she scrabbled against the metal. One bolt became two, then three, and that was all she needed. The plate swung freely now, and on the nights when she heard the glass sing she opened her little porthole and let the great pounding sound in.

But soon that wasn’t enough, she wanted to be in the thick of it where her lungs would be squeezed by the bass and her voice would rise amongst the roar of the crowd. She would have to climb down. Happily the Dag was a thin girl, perfectly shaped to ease through the little porthole she had made for herself. Far nicer then a door, wondrously understated and oddly elegant, at perfect odds with the heavy Vault door.

She dressed in grays and blacks to blend into the night, and took a wad of dried white clay with her to mark the places she could grab and to make a path back to the Vault. She laced her boots and crawled through the gap onto the smallest of ledges before straightening.

It was a dizzying way down, the though of a fall soured her mouth but steeled her nerves. Either she was to be successful and dance, or fall to her death and deprive Joe of one of his possessions, either way she would be victorious. The Dag climbed, hands gripping the rough-hewn rock and toes shuffling along a razor’s edge of rock.

She slipped only once, causing her to scream just a little before the terror of perhaps waking Joe or Rictus or anyone who could drag her back to the Vault silenced her. She was slow; her arms shaking with exertion and knees trembling as she climbed, but she pressed on, careful to mark every handhold with the dried clay.

The great throng grew louder with each shuffling step, it made her heart race. Spurred on by the thought of dancing she closed the gap between herself and the ground, careful to mark where her climb ended so she could find her way back up. The white marks would be invisible come day, and with how little it rained they would never fade.

She had never been down to the caverns, never even seen a War Boy up close. Immortan had said she was too shiny, too much like the stars in the sky to ever bring down.

“Then I will just come down myself,” she murmured in reply, hurrying along the twisting caverns to seek out the sound. It was far harder then she could ever imagine; caves twisted back on themselves, sometimes sending her to higher levels, then lower ones, but never where she wanted to be.

The walked into the repair cavern, corpses vehicles left and right in varying states of repair or dismantlement. They scared her a little, but the music was too loud now to linger on such thoughts. She dashed through the cavern, boots thumping on the gritty floor, thumping in time with the heavy hit of taiko.

She burst into the fighting pit, a hole in the ground normally meant for brawls with a stage now hanging above it, the Doof warrior wailing complex notes upon his guitar as a sea of sickly white boys thrashed below. A Rave. The Dag whooped a wild note and raced down into the crowd, quickly intermingling and letting her body move to the music. The Dag was happy, happier then when the briefest of rains passed over the gardens, happier then when Joe finally finished with her, happier then she had ever been in her life.

And Slit noticed this. He sat off to the side of the crowd in a shallow alcove, body heavy in the thin layer of sand as the drugs quelled the night-fever in his body. Slit wasn’t one for dancing, he was one to take a thick fingertip of silky-soft powder and press it to his tongue and wake up the next morning with no memory of the night previous. He had a sneaking suspicion he would remember the delicate figure with powder-white hair who danced like Doof was reading the music from her body language.

Slit struggled to stand, the drugs making his body weak in all the places he needed to be hard. Nux gave him a look, plaintive almost at the sight of his lancer staggering off.

“Piss,”

Nux nodded a monosyllabic explanation, relaxing against the wall once more. Slit nodded and stumbled into the crowd, black-painted eyes scanning the crowd for the slim figure. He didn’t so much find her as he did run into her, the Dag was dancing with her eyes closed, relishing the press of the boy’s flat bodies to hers before the stillness of Slit’s broad chest against her shoulders made her stop.

For one heart-stopping moment she thought it was Immortan come to drag her back to the Vault, she stopped dancing and turned to the split-mouth man, long fingers flying up to her mouth to stifle a gasp. To her he looked like a monster; wet eyes shaded dark, a smile too wide for his face, the Dag quickly backed away from the man as Slit advanced on the woman.

She ran, if word got out that she escaped the Vault, her and her sisters would all be punished. She ran, taiko drums thumping a feverish pace in time with her footfalls. She could hide in the repair cavern until the man passed, then dive back into the music once the coast was clear.

She raced into the repair cavern and slid under a truck, wrapping her light skin in the dark robes to better conceal herself. Slit plodded in after her, the drugs slowing him and making his vision pop with colours like signals from flare guns.

“Hhaeeyyyyy,” His voice was reedy and rough, Slit coughed and spat, hands resting on his knees as he tried to regain his breath. “I don’ mean any ‘arm, just lemme see you, I’ve never seen someone as shiny as you before,”

The Dag huddled tighter under the vehicle, still unwilling to make herself seen. Making herself heard was a different matter.

“Go away, I just want to dance, forget I even exist War Boy, ”

“I can dance with you if you come out,”

“No, go away,”

“Pleeeeaseeeeeeeee,”

Slit sounded like a whiny child deprived of sweets, the Dag huffed in her hiding place and shuffled about. She right fanged it now, she wouldn’t dance tonight and hell she might never see the next night if she stayed here until morning, sun knows what Immortan would do to her if she was found down here.

“Fine, but sit down with your hands on your knees, I don’t want any trouble,”

Slit was good with orders, and he quickly flopped down and rested his rough palms on his knees.

“I’m sitting, Shiny, please come out,” He giggled a little, for all he knew he was hallucinating thanks to the drugs or his fever, but it was fun nonetheless. The Dag crawled out from her hiding spot, straightening and quietly stepping into the middle of the cavern a little way’s off from Slit.

“Immortan be praised, look a you all chrome and bright,” Slit’s voice was full of wonder, he leaned forward and blinked in an attempt to better take in all of the Dag’s details. She stepped forward, and then forward again, then knelt down in front of the War Boy, dark painted eyes avoiding his.

“I’m Slit,” he said, sitting back a little giving the Dag room to breath.

“The Dag,” She nodded and plucked her dark robes a little closer around herself for protection. Slit licked his lips, fingers twitching on his knee.

“Dag, the Dag, Dag,” he rolled her name about in his mouth, sliver staples jumping up a little when he flashed a smile at her. “What brings you down here, the Dag?”

“Just Dag is fine,” she corrected, eyes finally settling on Slit’s left ear. “I wanted to dance, I can hear Doof play from the Vault and I climbed all the way down,”

Slit laughed, a rough bark that made Dag rear back.

“Sorry sorry, _just Dag_ ,” he wiped spittle from his lips and let his eyes wander further along the woman’s body. “The though of a little wire like you climbing down from up there.. Must be th’ drugs,” he shook his head and the Dag gave a little grumpy noise.

“I did do it, I climbed all the way down here, all the way to dance, not be scoffed at by some half-life,” she set her hands on hips, which pulled her shawl open to reveal more pale skin, white breast band, and the glint of silver of the cruel belt Joe had put on her. Slit was entranced.

“Silver on the Chrome,” He hummed and leaned forward, eyes fixed on the edge of her belt, curious as to its purpose. The Dag scooted back with a fearful look; Slit realized his mistake a little too late and quickly scuttled back with murmured “Sorry sorry," Her hand wavered, then came up to brush down the point of Slit’s nose. Slit blinked and a breath whistled through his teeth; so this was real, she was real.

“Not supposed to touch,” the next part came mumbled, “Chrome is for the next life,” The Dag paid this no heed, palm cupping his painted face and thumb stroking where black paint turned white along his cheekbone. Real real real and soft and smooth and all Slit wanted was to press ever part against her cool skin.

“I’ve never seen a War Boy this close,” her words were soft, soothing, they stilled Slit’s shaking hands as he too brought up a hand to trace only a finger along the Dag’s jaw. She didn't flinch at the touch, didn't flinch like when the living god touched her. She thumbed Slit's staples, the little flecks of metal that kept his face together now long overdue to be removed entranced her.

“I’ve never seen a shiny this close,” Her skin was soft just like the powder that made his body forget his sickness and hum like a V8. They both smiled, Slit's a little lop-sided and Dag's a flash of teeth, and then tentatively their faces neared and lips brushed. They were both curious; Dag had only ever had her sisters and Joe, Slit only knew war and repairs.

The kiss was sloppy, half-melted powder slicking the Dag’s lips as they savoured what cleanest chrome and grubby half-lives tasted like. Soon Dag was atop Slit, his fingers curled into her belt as she trained her lips with his. Slit tugged on the belt, flingers sliding to the sides to grab at the locks with a pitiful groan.

The Dag moaned too, she wanted but she couldn’t, she was hot with nothing to quench it with. She was humming now too, the powder anointing her lips seeping into her body and making everything burn brightly. Shiny as a star she was.

“I got bolt cutters,” Slit managed to make words between kisses.

“If I'm found without locks, he'll..” you didn't want to finish that thought and the look on the War Boy's face conveyed he didn't want to hear it.

“What if you still had the locks? Jimmy them open like?”

The Dag gasped, laughed, then kissed Slit harder with lips that buzzed from the drugs in her body. She stood on shaking legs, reaching out to a boneless War Boy to help him up. They leaned against a worktable, Slit grabbing the first screwdriver he could find, then jabbing at the lock with little patience. The drugs had made him soft in all the hard places, and now the Dag had made him hard in all the soft places, and he was so eager to see how soft she was too.

The lock clicked and the Dag almost sobbed with joy, free from her cruel imprisonment of her own choice . Slit eagerly tugged the belt off then pulled her down atop him once more.

“I’ll be the lancer, you drive,” a feral grin twisted his lips as his hands settled on the blonde’s hips to press her slick against his shaft through pale cloth and rough jean. That wasn’t the case for long, white fabric was torn away and dark pants were soon peeled off.

“Wait wait wait,” the Dag was gasping as Slit grasped himself, eager to feel what chrome was like. “If part of you stays in me, fills me, Joe will kill me,” Slit groaned like the wind was knocked out of him. He wasn’t thinking straight, not only would Joe kill her, but what about the sickness in his body? What if she was to waste away from his touch, wither away as tumors swelled? The thought left his mouth sour and he nodded hard in agreement.

“Can’t scrape the chrome, f'course, gotta stay shiny Dag,” he let go of himself and lay back, hoping he would wane soon. The Dag wasn’t so easily defeated; her mind was already hatching other plans. She shifted herself over him and pressed down, her slick rubbing against the underside of his shaft pinned between her apex and his stomach. It didn't fit like it was supposed to, but it pressed to her in the most perfect way.

Slit let out a cry as she rocked her hips forwards; so soft and wet like the ground after Immortan opened the waterfall for the Wretched. The Dag cried too; it wasn’t like she was used to, it was far nicer then that, Slit's hands were gentle on her hips as she rutted on him, careful not to hurt her. She was Chrome to him, perfect and shining and beautiful and the kisses they shared only strengthened that thought. He was a great machine to her, powerful and obedient and humming with soft strength that held her tighter with every thrust.

They found their ends quickly, the Dag shuddering over Slit who gasped her name like a mantra. No longer a dirty curse but a prayer for a lady of chrome. The belt went back on with shaking hands, Slit led her out of the caverns hand in hand on stumbling feet, and the Dag made her slow ascent back to her gilt prison.Slit watched her climb for a moment until she clambered around the side of the tower wall out of sight.

He wandered back to his alcove, only a few boys still dancing to Doof’s squall, and flopped beside his driver.

“Some piss,” Nux looked at Slit with tired eyes, barely bothering to turn his head to properly look at the other boy.

“Yeah, some piss,”


	2. stunned, but not muted, Splendid Angharad told her tale

The wives stared that the Dag with open mouths, cab once again as silent as before she had opened her lips. Toast broke the silence.

“You snuck out, almost died, got high, and fucked a war boy?”

“Yes, a few times,”

“A few times?!”

“That’s what I said didn’t I?”

Toast looked about ready to explode, her dark cheeks ruddy as she stared at the pale woman.

“They even had a names for me I snuck down so often; pale devil, dust queen, Chrome..” She sighed and settled back into her seat, content with her retelling, faced a little flushed. The Fool chuckled briefly, then silence fell upon the wives once more.

“Coma-Doof, that reminds me,” Splendid murmured, one hand smoothing over her belly while the other traced her lips. “I have a story now, I’ll go next,” Toast groaned.

“Don’t tell me you fucked him!? You snuck out all fat and pregnant for that little smeg?!” Toast shot a disapproving look at the Dag, her shot at Splendid aimed in a roundabout way to the Dag. The Dag frowned and jabbed Toast with a boot toe.

“I didn’t mean to fuck him we just-”

“Oh what you accidentally got your belt off and landed on his cock?”

“No, Toast shut up, I didn’t-”

“But you did-”

“Hush up!” Splendid’s voice was loud in the small space, quickly ending the squabble. “As I was saying, I have a story,” The other women settled down, Dag folding up on herself and Toast returning to rubbing Cheedo’s shoulders.

Splendid took a slow breath, leaning back into the seat with hands cupping the underside of her belly.

* * *

 She had been sleeping, napping away on a soft palette in a beam of sunlight with one arm curled under her head and the other draped over her rounded front.

It was quiet, but not entirely. Splendid was roused from her doze by the soft plucking of strings, _plink-plink plink-plink_ , a little tune that was both out of place and fit perfectly in the peaceful room.

She sat up, looking about the spacious Vault until her eyes fell on the back of a shaved head, a thick leather strap running from one side to the other and bisecting it perfectly. An unexpected guest sitting upon the couch with face turned away from her.

“Oh, I didn’t mean to wake you, miss Angharad,” the sound of strings abruptly stopped. Splendid was wary of the guest, standing from the bed and circling about to face them. There wasn’t any need to really, as soon as Splendid made it halfway around the guest turned to face her with a sharp-toothed grin.

Splendid gave a little startled scream and fell back on the hard floor, an arm up to defend herself from the vile creature in a red onesie. The guest put their instrument down, then patted at their face, a look of understanding shaping their lips into a silent _Oh_.

“I do apologize miss Angharad, I forget I have this on sometimes, it’s great for on the wagon but..” he struggled with the tanned mask for a moment before removing it from his face, revealing what looked to be a War Boy with milky eyes underneath. “I can, er, _see_ why it gave you a shock, sorry,” he smiled again, _teeth all filed to points_ thought Splendid.

Splendid eased a little, managing to get her legs beneath her and stand once more. He arm was still out between them, protecting her as much as she could.

“Who are you,” The guest fixed her with unseeing eyes, Splendid shuddered.

“I am Coma-Doof, the rider of the Doof wagon and hailer of the troops in times of war,” he plucked a little flourish on his instrument, “Also part time companion and entertainer,” Splendid took a step forward; so this was the Doof Warrior, the demon who tormented the strings of his double-neck guitar to rile War Boys. He seemed rather.. Small, it was hard to imagine that much power held in such a small body.

“Why are you here, Doof?”

“It’s Coma actually, Doof is my title,” He closed his eyes and let his fingers rove over the strings; playing snippets of songs she swore she knew but flitting too fast between songs to pin down. “Joe told me to come keep you company, said you like music,”

Splendid nodded silently, taking a tentative seat beside the little musician. She was the warlord’s favourite after all, always offered treats and privileges beyond what the other wives were allowed. This wasn’t so much of surprise; just Coma’s appearance set her on edge.

“Joe trusts you here alone with me?” She was trying to relax, settling back into the cushions as the guitarist plucked out a soft little tune.

“Oh yes, I’m not old enough to pose much of a threat,” He chuckled a little and turned his head in Splendid’s direction, “I’m barely out of pup miss Angharad,”

“Barely? How old are you?” Splendid was filled with motherly worry, she had already birthed one young son who left just as soon as he arrived, the thought of such a small life thrown into such regular turmoil made her heart ache.

“Young, not sure, not as old as lotsa the War Boys, older then the pups tho,” He hummed in tune, playing a few more notes before letting his fingers mute the strings.

“I was a pup when Joe took me in, my town Tinwall was razed by hornheads, Joe was passing by and cleared them out and saved me,” He wriggled in his seat a little, drawing up bare feet to cross them on the sofa. “I was blinded by one of them, a hornhead, while trying to save my mom,” A hand drifted from his instrument to his mask, tracing the dried leather with a gentle touch. Splendid’s chest ached; so young yet ripped away from so much.

“Sometimes I try to remember what she looked like, it’s hard now, I’m afraid I’ll forget, but I won’t forget what the hornhead who killed her looked like,” His fingers wrung the neck of his guitar, his small pale face screwing up in half a look of sadness and half a snarl of fury as tears gathered on his lashes, threatening to fall. “I’ll rip his throat out when I find him again, make him pay,”

“What songs do you know Coma?” she tried to divert the conversation, scooting close to the half-pup and laying a gentle arm around his small shoulders. He swiped at his eyes with the sleeve of his onesie, barking a noise between a sob and a cough, sniffling before leaning against Immortan’s favourite wife and finally settling his fingers enough to play a single song.

“Anything you want, Splendid,”


	3. breaking her silence, Capable retells a memory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now with 100% more Nux/Capable!! Sorry for teasing you guys with that tag earlier and not coming through, but hey look it's here now you can stop pining over your long lost pairing.

The rig thumped along a dip in the sand, making the interior of the cab creak and rattle in the silence after Splendid’s story. The Wives’ faces were all somber, they all knew the despair of small lives cut too short. Cheedo let out a shudder of a breath, fingers pressing together and intertwining nervously, she knew the pain even more then Angharad, as fragile as she was it had taken Joe three tries before he stopped trying with her.

“I once knew a dying boy” Capable’s voice was a rasp, her silence rusting her throat. “Met him when I was really young, when Joe felt safer parading me around, probably dead now,”

“What was he like?” asked the Dag, eaning out from behind Splendid to take a look at the redhead.

“He was sweet, didn’t deserve the trouble he got in for my sake,”

“Can you tell us about him?” Cheedo’s voice was gentle, not wanting to pry considering her earlier response. Capable sighed and straightened, leaning against the frame of the open window with a few locks of her wild mane escaping to flutter in the breeze.

“I can try," 

* * *

 

Capable was young once, it seemed like she had been a wife forever but once she had been small and thin and full of light, holding onto the hand of the older man as they walked through throngs of pale boys. Joe had been kinder back then, younger and gentler in his rule, his hair a pale blond and his back straight as a crossbow bolt and his morals far more true. He used to laugh.

“This is the repair cavern Capable, War Boys fix their vehicles here so they can go out and protect the Citadel on them again,”

“Those things break? But they’re all metal, metal doesn’t break,” her voice was higher, young and curious and on the cusp of deepening as her body took on a fuller shape. War Pups looked at her with black-ringed eyes, bustling to and fro with armfuls of tools and materials, one day they would be War Boys but for now they were only starting as Repair Boys just as the sickness started taking root in their frail bodies.

“They do, Capable, even the strongest of materials break sometimes,” The edges of his eyes crinkled above the edge of his plain respirator, not yet adorned with the teeth of the last known horse in the desert. A sharp clang rang out and shouts broke out, sounds of a scuffle soon following. Joe’s hidden smile fell and he let go of the young girl’s hand, straightening to his full height.

“Stay here, don’t talk to anyone, I will return,” He strode off, grumbling as he walked away that soon turned into a boom. Capable stood stalk still, without the Immortan by her side she was soon swallowed by the crowd. She was still given a berth, but the pale bodies of pups closed about her closer and closer until she felt a wet-hot breath down her neck.

She wheeled about and almost shrieked. A boy with a lump over his eye stood behind her, grinning with crooked teeth along with a second boy who stood a little taller. Their curious gazes shone with half-hidden malice.

“What are you doing here, there’s not supposed to be any Wretched down ‘ere”

“I’m not a Wretched,” she replied, “I’m Capable,” The names flew over her head, the town she was taken from didn’t have any Wretched, just people.

“Capable, capable of what?”

“Anything I try at,”

The pups scoffed at this, crossing their arms and one of them hawked at the space between he redhead’s feet, making her dance back into another pup who instantly pushed he back up against the two pups.

“Like you could fix a steering wheel,”

“Or a tail light,”

“I could, I just haven’t tried it yet!” Capable stamped her foot, cheeks flushing with anger at the pale boys’ cruel words.

“Then why don’t you try it then, Capable,” the nearest one shoved her in the shoulder. The other one pushed her in the opposite shoulder a moment later, both of them laughing as her eyes blurred with angry tears. The pup that pushed her first was about to push her again when a thin voice called out.

“Oi! Quit it, get back to work! Do you two tumors-for-brains want to be repair boys until you go all soft and sour with the sick?” A third pup stepped forward, even lankier then the other two if that was at all possible.

“ _Ruttin’ Nux_ , alright fine,” the two pups disappeared into the swarm of pale bodies again and the third turned to go, Capable made a grab for his wrist and held on tight. The pup looked back, head cocked with one bushy brow raised over his startlingly blue eyes.

“Thank you, Repair Boy,” She nodded her head in a bow, straightening again to swipe at her tears with her other hand. She realized she was still holding onto him and dropped his arm with a laugh and a muttered apology.

“Please, where are you going? Joe old me to stay in this spot until he came back but I don’t feel very-”

“Safe?” Capabe nodded and the pup nodded back,“I know a place that’s safe, come with me,” He grinned with crooked teeth and started off back into the crowd.

“Hey wait!” Capable shouted after him, doing her best to follow, “Not so fast I’ll lose you!” His reply was a single pale hand stretched out to her from between other pale bodies. She took the hand and the pup pulled her along until they made it out of the bustle of bodies.

“I’m just working over there, c’mon,” The pup once again pulled her along, this time a little slower.

“I’m Capable, do you have a name? It’d be silly to call you Pup all the time,”

“I’m Nux, but _shh_ it’s supposed to be a secret, I’m not supposed to have a name until I’m big enough to fill a driver’s seat,” He grinned back at the redhead, his eyes lingering on her face for a moment longer then needed before dragging his attention elsewhere like an engine block on a winch.

“Where have you been? You were supposed to get those spikes hours ago!” Another pup scampered up to meet them when Nux approached one of the cars, he was a little taller and his white paint was smudged with grease up to his upper arms.

“Oh Capable, this is Slit,” Nux was grinning for a moment before Slit smacked him up the backside of his head. Capable gave a little startled noise at the sudden violence.

“M’name’sa _secret_ , rottybrains,” He glared at Nux for a moment then his dark eyes swivelled to rest on Capable, “I’m Slit, nice to meetcha,” It was Nux’s turn to glare at Slit. Capable gave a little giggle.

“What are you working on?” Capable stepped towards the car, then around it. She didn’t know much about cars, but she was sure she would learn quick of the boys were willing to teach her.

“It’s gonna be our car when we get big,” replied Slit, throwing an arm around Nux and beaming proudly, “I’m gonna be a lancer, Nux is gonna drive, were gonna ride to Valhalla together one day,” Capable didn’t ask what Slit meant, she was busy opening he driver’s side door and clambering in to sit on the dented leather seat.

“See that’s where I’m gonna sit,” Nux stepped up beside the open car door, looking out through the windshield with her. Capable’s attention turned from the dirty windshield to see Nux fuss with one of his pockets, quickly producing a pedal with his name cut and painted into the rubber grip.

**N U X**

“I’m sure you’re going to be a great driver Nu-”

“ _ **Capable!**_ ”

Her head snapped up from the pale gaze of the War Pup to see a hulking Immortan Joe standing a few steps from the car. With a single stride he closed the gap and cracked Nux so hard with the back of his hand he went flying. Capable screamed.

“I was looking everywhere for you I thought some one carried you off, oh Capable why did you let this dirty thing touch you you’re all chalky white,” Joe fussed over her as he pulled her from the car, carrying her close to his chest. He turned to Nux, Capable doing her best to calm herself as the warlord stalked towards the boy. Nux threw out a hand, bone white with a slash of red on it to defend himself, wide eyes peering at Joe between fingers.

“Joe please, don’t Joe! He helped me get away from some Pups that pushed me, he isn’t bad he was helping! He didn’t touch me Joe please don’t! ” Capable thumped her hands against the older man’s chest, her voice once again growing weepy and tearful. Immortan relented, sighing and stepping back half a pace but still glaring at the War Pup at his feet.

“We’re leaving, and you aren’t coming down here again is that understood Capable,” She nodded, trying not to let her lips quiver and break into another sob. Joe turned on his heel and stalked out, Capable looked over his shoulder to a bloodied Nux, a crescent cut on his cheekbone that stained his paint the colour of her hair.


End file.
